by Sadie Carter
Boris just sighed and gave her an incredulous look.
“You’re such a spoilsport, you know that, right? First, I had to promise you my second-born child just to get you to bring me here, and now you won’t pay up when you lose a bet.”
Boris glanced down at her stomach with a raised eyebrow.
“Don’t give me that look. You know you want this child. Nassir is just lucky she doesn’t have to carry him around. He’s freaking enormous. He’s going to tear me in two, I’m going to die, and then you’ll be sorry you never paid up on our bet.”
Boris gently grabbed her arm, making her pause. Then he glared down at her sternly. She sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just have this feeling that something bad is going to happen, and since this pregnancy has basically been a disaster from the get-go, I can’t help but think something is going to go wrong while I’m giving birth.”
Which was part of the reason she was trying to distract herself with Easter and scaring a room full of people away with her tears. She let out a sigh at his concerned look.
“I’m only joking around. I don’t really think anything will happen to me.” He gave her a skeptical look. “I just wanted a distraction. Which is why we came here.”
Boris raised an eyebrow. He knew her so well.
“And also because I want chocolate,” she admitted. “Do you think I can sneak any past Moroco and Dex?”
Boris didn’t look hopeful. Yeah, that was what she figured. She sighed. “Maybe Ellie could store them for me at the bakery until this baby explodes out of me. I reckon she’ll agree, don’t you?”
She felt a little bad for her behavior in there. But not enough to go back and apologize.
“Come on, let’s get back before anyone notices I’m gone. Although someone has probably told Dex by now. The Zerconians love to tell on me.”
Boris just shook his head.
“Bunch of tattletales.” A wave of heat washed through her and her head pounded, making her feel ill.
Boris moved closer, taking her arm. “I’m all right, just feeling a little dizzy, and my headache is getting worse.”
Boris made a rumbling noise of displeasure.
“I’ll be okay,” she told one of her closest friends. She’d be lost without Boris. “I was joking about the whole dying in childbirth thing. Although I wasn’t joking about giving you and Nassir this demon child. He’s all yours.”
“Where is my mate?” Dex demanded, striding out of his rooms. The two Zerconian warriors standing guard outside his quarters looked at each other guiltily.
Dex growled. His mate was an expert at getting her own way. She knew he wanted her to rest, that she was supposed to follow Moroco’s instructions. She was not supposed to be leaving their quarters.
So where was she?
He used his personal communicator to contact her.
“Dex? Hey, how’s it going?” Zoey asked.
“It is not going well.”
“Oh no. Is Koran being a pain in the ass?”
“Koran is not a pain in my ass.”
“I didn’t mean literally,” she said hastily. “I mean, if he were a literal pain in your ass, then that could be a real problem. I meant was he—”
“I know what you meant, mate,” he interrupted. “I have spent enough years with you now that I realize not all you say is literal.”
“You don’t need to sound like all those years you’ve spent with me have been so hard. You could say something like, ‘I’ve spent the best years of my life with you, my love, and I have dedicated that time to understanding you.’ You know, something like—”
“Zoey,” he growled in a low voice.
“Yes?” she replied sweetly.
She knew she was in trouble with him.
“Where are you?”
“Um. . .”
“Zoey.”
“Dex.”
“Zoey.”
“Dex.”
“Zoey!” he barked. “Tell me where you are immediately, or I shall track you down and have you confined to your room.”
There was silence. Then a sniffle. Dex groaned. Stars.
“You’d confine me to my room? That’s so mean. Why are you being mean to me, Dex? I’m as big as a house. I’m sad. I’m tired. I’m hungry. My head hurts—”
“Your head hurts?” he asked sharply. That was one of the warning signs Moroco had given them to watch out for. If she started to get a bad headache, they were supposed to contact him.
“Zoey, listen to me, my own.” He kept his tone low and soothing. His Zoey wasn’t stupid, but she could be impetuous. “Is Boris with you?”
“Of course, Boris is with me. Boris is always with me.”
At least Zoey never tried to go anywhere alone. She always had Boris. It was the only reason Dex could function, knowing the other male watched over his mate so closely. Although the downside was that Boris adored Zoey to the point that he allowed her to get away with far more than Dex would.
“Tell Boris to sit you down somewhere in the shade and put your feet up. I will ping your location and call Moroco.”
“What? Why? Dex, I’m fine. I don’t need to see that sadist.”
Dex sighed. “Zoey, he is a healer. Not a sadist. And he does not appreciate you calling him that.”
“I don’t appreciate him bossing me around like I’m a naughty two-year-old.”
Dex shook his head. “Zoey, focus. Tell Boris what I told you. I do not like the sound of your aching head.”
“Well, try actually having the headache. It’s no fun from my end either. Boris, Dex said. . .Boris, what is Larzen doing? What’s going on? What’s wrong with him? Boris!”
“Zoey! Zoey, what is going on?” Dex yelled and took off running down the passage. He opened the bond to his mate, and her fear and confusion bombarded him. Stars! He was aware of his warriors following behind him but ignored them. “Zoey! What is happening?”
“Dex! Something is wrong with Larzen. He’s acting all crazy. He tried to attack us! Now he’s fighting with Boris. Dex!”
“Where are you, Zoey? Zoey!”
“Two blocks from the bakery. Hurry!”
The communicator went quiet and Dex quickly contacted Macon and Koran. Then he sped towards his mate, his heart racing.
He could not lose her. He would not.
3
Saffron and Moroco
Saffron screamed as the autocooker spat dish after dish of food out. She caught what she could, but soon she was overwhelmed as bowls crashed to the ground, smashing. Food splashed up on the negligee she’d bought at the market earlier today, completely ruining it.
The autocooker gave one last gurgle, then black smoke started pouring out of it. She gaped in disbelief. Stepping back, she slipped on a slice of canka fruit, falling onto her butt with a pained cry.
Fuck my life.
This was why she didn’t cook. Okay, so you probably couldn’t call it cooking when all you had to do was program an autocooker, which she’d somehow managed to mess up.
What was wrong with her?
“Saffron? Saffron, where are you?” Moroco roared.
She groaned and lay on her back. Yep. Screw her life. She could feel squishy, icky canka on her upper back, her hair was no doubt filled with the stuff, she’d broken the autocooker, and bruised her butt. All because she’d wanted to seduce her mate.
How the hell had she messed it up so badly?
“Saffron! Saffron! What is wrong, my mate?”
She opened her eyes to see Moroco standing over her. His eyes were filled with concern, his hair in disarray. He opened his mouth right as an alarm started blaring.
Glancing over at the autocooker, he jumped over her and hit something on it. The alarm stopped, and smoke ceased from pouring from the machine, although plenty of it still filled their house.
He turned back and stepped towards her, crouching down.
“Saffron, what happened?”
Moroco wore a ferocious frown. Although he was usually frowning. He had an excellent resting bitch face. She’d learned to judge his mood by how intense his frown was. Right now, he was concerned and a little grumpy.
“Are you hurt? No, lie still,” he urged, placing his hand gently on her shoulder. He glanced around the room. “I must get you out of here, but I do not wish to move you until I have checked your injuries.”
“I’m not injured,” she grouched. “Just dumb.”
“Dumb?”
“Dumb.” She tried to sit again and he held her down.
“You are certain you do not have an injury?” He gently ran his hands over her, ignoring the fact that she was covered in food.
“Does pride count?” she asked.
He tilted his head to one side. “It does not.”
Sarcasm fail.
“If you did not hurt yourself, why do you lie on the ground?” he asked.
“Would you accept that I was attempting to stop, drop, and roll? I missed out the roll part, though.”
“Mate,” he growled in a low voice. “Be serious.”
“I’m fine, Moroco. Nothing is hurt other than my butt, which is probably a little bruised. You can kiss it and make it all better later.”
He shook his head and a shard of rejection hit her deep. Don’t be stupid, Saffron. He doesn’t even understand what you’re talking about. He doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you.
She might believe her own reassurances. If it hadn’t been two months since he’d fucked her.
“I am going to pick you up now, mate. Tell me if anything hurts,” he warned.
“No, wait, you don’t want to get. . .” she sighed as he stood with her cradled in his arms, “…canka fruit all over you.”
“Let me get you outside and away from this smoke. I do not know what it might do to your fragile human lungs.”
“What about your fragile Zerconian lungs?” she grumbled.
“Zerconian lungs are not fragile.”
“Of course they aren’t. What was I thinking? Your Zerconian lungs are far superior to my puny human lungs.”
“Yes. Exactly.”
Suddenly, she realized he wasn’t moving out onto the balcony but was instead walking out the front door. And she was dressed only in a negligee and covered in canka fruit and this sticky sauce substance that tasted like caramel.
“Moroco! You can’t take me outside like this!”
He paused. “Like what?”
“Look at me!”
He ran his gaze over her. “What do you wish me to look at?”
Men. So oblivious. And Zerconian men? Even worse than human men. Really? What did she wish him to look at? Was it not obvious?
“I’m covered in food,” she pointed out slowly.
“I can see that.”
“And do you see what I’m wearing?” she asked.
“Saffron, I fail to see what your dress has to do with your health.”
“It’s not a dress! It’s a negligee! They’re two completely different things! A dress, you can wear out in public. A negligee, you wear to bed.”
“Saffron, nobody cares if you are wearing sleepwear,” Moroco said impatiently.
“You can see my nipples through the lace.”
He paused. By now, they were just outside the front door. He stared down at her, his eyes flashing amber. “You can see your nipples?”
“Yes.”
“Why can you see your nipples?” he demanded.
“Because this is a negligee, not sleepwear or a dress.”
“But why do you wear it?”
“Because I’m trying to entice my clueless mate into having sex with me!” she yelled.
She heard a gasp of outrage and glanced over to see two Zerconian females standing several feet away, watching them.
“What?” she snapped at them. “Haven’t you ever seen a woman in a negligee, covered in food, being held by her mate?”
Both of them stared at her. Then their gazes rose to Moroco.
“Healer, we wished to speak to you,” one of them said.
Really? No, are you all right, Saffron? Or what happened, Saffron? Or maybe we should come back another time? What was wrong with these women? Whatever it was, it didn’t appear to be an emergency, and she’d had enough. She’d reached the limit of her patience. Admittedly, she wasn’t known for having much patience, but she’d held her tongue for weeks now.
“No!” Saffron snapped. “Not happening. He’s not working. He’s off limits to you right now. Just turn around, go to the medical center, and find a healer there.”
“Your mate is being very discourteous,” one of them told him with a sniff. “She should learn some manners.”
“You cannot expect her to have good manners, Alearthina,” the other one said. “She is one of those humans, after all. They are very ignorant.”
“If you don’t remove that big stick in your ass, then you’re going to be picking splinters out of your teeth! If you even have any teeth by the time I’m through with you!” She wiggled in Moroco’s hold. “Moroco, put me down!”
“No, mate. Stay still.”
“What? I have nothing up my bottom. Healer, if I could have a moment—”
“I am busy,” Moroco told them both coldly. “Go to the medical center.”
“But, healer—” the other one said.
“Go. Now.” Moroco glared at them both.
Saffron smiled. She didn’t care how rude or childish they thought she was being. Clearly, Moroco was busy.
“I have never struck such a rude—”
“Go. Away.” Saffron glared at them both until they turned and strode off.
Moroco sighed, then he turned so that he faced the door, effectively shielding Saffron from anyone passing by.
“Why do they have to come to our house?” She hated people who complained. She hated whiners. And she really, really hated that right now that she was doing both.
“I suppose they wished to ask my opinion on something in regard to their health.”
“But why you?” she asked. “Why not go to the medical center? Why are they coming to see you at home?”
He frowned. “This bothers you? That they come to our home?”
“Of course it bothers me,” she told him. “I never get any time alone with you anymore.”
He blinked, stared down at her, then he touched something on the pad next to the door. “The house is now smoke free.”
He stepped into the house and walked back into the living area.
“No, don’t put me down. You’re going to. . .” she sighed as he set her on the couch, “get the couch all dirty. Sometimes I wonder why I bother talking when no one listens.”
“I listen, mate. But often what you say makes no sense. Now stay where you are while I get the med-wand.”
She knew better than to move, waiting until he returned with the wand, which he ran over her body. “A slightly bruised tailbone. No adverse effects from the smoke in regards to your lungs or breathing, which is a relief.”
“Awesome. Can I get up now?”
He leaned over her, getting into her face. “No, you may not. Not until you explain why you wear a garment that shows your nipples!”
Anger filled his mate’s face as she wiggled her finger at him.
Uh-oh. The finger wiggle. He had learned to be cautious when the finger wiggle appeared.
“Mate,” he said cautiously. Somehow, he had made a wrong move. He was just not certain what.
“That’s all you have to say? Really?” She jumped up, forcing him to move out of the way, and started pacing. He winced as he saw pieces of canka fruit fall off her hair and the thing she called a negligee.
He felt his shaft harden and press against his breeches. The material clung to her in some interesting places, across her breasts and hips. If it wasn’t for the fact that she was covered in juicy fruit and sticky sauce, he might. . .
“Are you paying any attention to me?”
She paused in front of him, heaving for breath, and his gaze became caught on her breasts. “Moroco! Now is not the time to perv at my breasts.”
He was not certain what perv meant. He guessed it was nothing good. However, how could anything be bad when it came to her delicious breasts?
“It is not?”
“No. It isn’t. The reason I’m dressed in this negligee, the reason I tried to use that stupid autocooker, which obviously has it in for me, is because I wanted to create a romantic date night for the two of us!”
“You wished to have a romantic date?” His Saffron? Romantic?
“Yes!”
“Why?”
“Why, he asks? Why?” She threw her hands up in the air.
“I do ask. And who do you talk to? Are you certain you did not hit your head when you hurt your bottom?” he asked in concern. She was not acting like herself.
“No, I did not hit my head. Although sometimes it certainly feels like I’m going insane. I wanted to have a romantic date night because I feel like I hardly ever see you. We never spend time together, just the two of us.”
“I come home every evening,” he protested.
“And most of the time, you barely say ten words to me before we’re interrupted by someone or you head into your home office to work.”
“Saffron, that is not true.”
“When’s the last time you fucked me?” She put her hands on her hips, which made the material go even tighter across her breasts. Now that she spoke of it, when was the last time they had joined?
“I am certain it cannot have been more than a day or two. . .or perhaps a week. . .” He tried to think back.
“Two months, Moroco.”
That could not be right. “You exaggerate.”
“I’m not exaggerating,” she said quietly. Her shoulders slumped. She looked. . .dejected. His mate was never dejected. She was strong and feisty and sometimes too courageous for his peace of mind. He did not like seeing her like this.
“Saffron, my mate—”
“I. . .I need to go shower. I’ll clean everything up in a minute.” She turned and fled, leaving Moroco staring after her worriedly.